3 AM
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: In a world where the Walkers escaped the horrors of the Long Walk, Gary Barkovitch can't sleep. Parkovitch, T for swearing.


**Author's Note: This was a file I found on my computer that was unfinished and I thought, hey, why not finish it?**

**Disclaimer: The Long Walk is not mine.**

_3 AM_

It's three in the morning, and the fact that Parker is in the same bed as Barkovitch has finally set in.

He knows it's only for space's sake, there are only two beds in the hotel room they've managed to get all of their 'group' into, but Collie Parker rarely agrees to things like this. And here he is, lying in the same bed as Gary Barkovitch. If he wanted to, he could reach across and touch Barkovitch. That realization is somehow comforting.

Parker moves closer to the small, dark boy, and hears him breathing softly. Barkovitch seems so much more peaceful when he's sleeping, nothing at all like the one he knows during the day.

Suddenly he makes a low whine deep in his throat, and kicks at the air, and then eventually his feet find Parker.

"Ow," Parker hisses, trying not to wake the other. "What the fuck?"

Barkovitch whimpers again and moves closer to Parker. His eyes are shut, he's clearly still asleep. "Barkobitch, you ok?" The other boy says nothing and has soon pushed Parker all the way to the edge of the bed.

Parker can't stand this anymore and wraps his arms around Barkovitch's shoulders to keep him from moving anymore. That will work, he thinks.

Barkovitch has buried his face in Parker's shoulder and breathes into his skin, panting as though he's been running for awhile. They lay like that for awhile, and eventually Parker finds himself falling back to sleep.

Unfortunately, Barkovitch picks that moment to start kicking and whimpering again. Parker is jolted awake, and looks around in surprise, but then irritation sets in.

He kicks Barkovitch in the shin. The dark boy's eyes flicker open and look around, wide and terrified. _"Blondie?" _he half-whispers.

"Shut up, you'll wake the others."

Barkovitch is shaking, obviously still terrified from whatever dreams were plaguing him. He suddenly feels an intense need to burrow into Parker's arms and hide there forever. A soft whine escapes him.

"Shh, you little shit, it's alright," Parker whispers, and draws Barkovitch closer to him. Anything to shut the kid up, he tells himself. He can feel Barkovitch's skinny frame trembling. "What's wrong?" He tries to sound comforting and fails miserably.

"Nightmares," Barkovitch manages. His cheeks are flushed in humiliation, _Parker _is comforting him. Hell, there's enough surprise in the fact that he even needed comfort. Why would he need something like this?

"Well, listen, Barkobitch, they're not fucking real. They're just from your fucked-up mind." Somehow, these words sound sweet. In a Parker way.

Barkovitch nods into Parker's chest and then Parker realizes that he's crying quietly. "You ok?"

"I don't know what I was fucking thinking, going along with this," he whispers.

"Hell, neither do I. None of us do," is the best Parker can come up with. He almost feels bad that he doesn't have any sweet words to comfort Barkovitch with.

"What if they catch us?" Barkovitch's voice is barely audible.

"Then we run. Or we fight back." His hands find their way to Barkovitch's hair and he has a strange, new urge to wrap Barkovitch up in his arms and keep him safe from whatever stupid thing it was that was terrifying him.

Barkovitch looks up at the white stucco of the ceiling, as though contemplating this. His eyelids seemed to flutter, as though he wanted to sleep but he couldn't quite figure out how. "What if we fail?"

"Stop asking stupid questions," Parker mutters, and finds himself kissing Barkovitch's dark hair, if only to shut him up with the surprise of that action. He almost wonders aloud what he's even doing here. Why'd he sign up for this damn thing anyways...how'd he ended up with a terrified Barkovitch pressed against his chest.

His tactic for shutting him up works, Barkovitch appears slightly stunned. "Parker?"

"What the fuck do you want now.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"This."

"You're so fucking descriptive, Barkobitch. You should really become an English professor," he says irritably.

"Sarcasm really isn't your strong point."

"Shut up." Parker kisses Barkovitch again, this time not on the top of his head but on his mouth. It's not weird to him anymore, not after the first time. Maybe it's even enjoyable.

Barkovitch makes a stifled noise of surprise. "Why'd you do that?"

"To shut you up."

"It worked."

"I know. That was the point, dumbass."

Parker wraps his arms more tightly around Barkovitch, like he's afraid that the little shit will slip away if he lets go. "Blondie?" Barkovitch's voice has gone back to being barely a whisper.

Parker feels the urge to say that he doesn't want any sentimental bullshit, but instead he just says as gently as he can, "Yeah?"

"If we live, I don't know what we'll fucking do, but I don't want to do it without you."

Parker rolls his eyes. "Aw, Barkobitch, how sweet. Now go the fuck back to sleep."

"Okay."

And when Barkovitch finally finds a way for his eyes to close, he has to wonder whether there will be consequences in the morning. But for the moment, he doesn't really care.

.

.

.

**Like I said, this was unfinished, but I hope it was at least alright anyways. I needed some fluff. **


End file.
